


five ways it could have ended for the clones + the one way it did

by FemaleSpock



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Clones, Gen, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kamino, Order 66, Rebellion, Survivor Guilt, Tragedy, the clones deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemaleSpock/pseuds/FemaleSpock
Summary: Five ways it could have ended for the clones + the one way it did.1. Eternal servitude2. Genetic disorder3. Revenge of the Jedi4. Victory for the Republic5. Clone Rebellion1. End of the Line





	five ways it could have ended for the clones + the one way it did

 

1.

Echo looked out over the field of new recruits. The rows and rows white armour gleaming as far as the eye could see. The suns never set on the Galactic Empire – that’s what they said – and so too it was for clones. The Empire had been built on solid foundations: on their sacrifice, their blood and their bone. And the Emperor had rewarded their loyalty with the renewal of their brotherhood, the continuation of their line.

There was something in Echo that wanted to break into tears when he thought clones fighting and dying for the Empire thousands of years down the line, though he didn’t quite know why. Perhaps it was simply that he was getting old. Regardless, no tears spilt from his eyes. Orders came from on high and he repeated them exactly. The troopers echoed them back to him without hesitation.

At night he dreamed of that day. The day when they had followed orders perfectly, so perfectly that there had been no other thoughts in their heads. It was the same every night, the sequence of events: he received the call. He pulled his blaster from its holster. He shot. The Jedi fell. He moved forward. They were actions without emotion. Actions without motivation. They had been the perfect soldiers that day and now they always would be. Together they would act as one instrument. The war would never truly end, not where there was dissent, not when the populace showed anything less than the perfect loyalty of his brothers. Together they would keep on fighting.

Forever.

2.

No matter how many times 99 did his rounds on the Kamino he never got used to the sight of his brothers – the strong, healthy ones, the ones he’d always wished he could have been like – laid flat on their backs like corpses. Some of them muttered or moaned as they heard his steps but there was nothing coherent. There hadn’t been for days now. At first, the disease had robbed them of the strength in their limbs, now it had taken everything from them.

Almost everything. They lived still, fighting against the odds. Let no-one say his brothers weren’t resilient.

Stopping by Five’s bed, he took out a cloth and wiped sweat from his damp brow, straightening his bed sheets. These simple tasks were all he could do to keep himself from hopelessness. It was what his brothers would have wanted. _Keep on fighting! Keep the spirit alive!_ But nothing he did stopped the pain in his chest when he looked at the faces of those he knew, those he loved, and found them damn near unrecognisable (no spark in their eyes, no life). 

Fives had been one of the last of his age range to go. He’d spent hours researching even as the fever started to flare. 99 had helped him, though genetics went right over his head. Even that Kaminoans hadn’t seen this coming. How were they to know that Jango Fett had some heretofore unknown disease lurking in his DNA, just waiting for the right moment to strike? After all, he’d died before the curse had hit.

He’d heard whispers that the Kaminoans were going to pull the plug on the funding of care for the clones if they didn’t recover soon. The Republic was going to want a refund for defective products, that was if the Republic could survive the war with its forces dwindling as fast as they were. 99 knew firsthand the cruelty hidden within the elegance of the Kaminoans, the desire to bleach away anything that was less than perfect. They blamed the mistakes for their existence as if they hadn't created them in the first place. Their hands always had to appear clean.

If it came down to it, they would cut their losses without a second thought. 

But still 99 prayed for a miracle. They had taken his DNA for testing several times over and he would give them his entire body if he thought it would save his brothers. Somehow there was immunity in his deformity and now at last 99 realised his purpose.

He would be the hero to save his brothers. He had to be.

3.

If something could go wrong on the battlefield, it would go wrong: Rex knew this truth well. It was seared into his genetic makeup by now. But even he couldn’t have predicted how quickly everything would turn sour. He’d been dropped solo into the middle of a swamp on an important recon mission and he hadn’t had contact with anyone for hours. The commlink had been cutting in and out for days and he was starting to feel increasingly apprehensive about the whole thing. He could feel it in his gut: something was wrong. He’d succeeded on his mission, he’d be back with his brothers soon enough, but he couldn’t help but feel alone out here. If General Skywalker was here, he’d tease him mercilessly for thinking he could intuit as well as a Jedi could but then again if General Skywalker was here, he wouldn’t be alone.

The commlink flickered into life, a slight burst of static. Rex let out a breath of relief, answering the call. “Captain Rex here.”

He saw the blurry figure of a brother before him. “This is a warning to all clones. They know that…” The figure heaved a  stuttered breath, cutting himself off.

Rex’s heart pounded in his chest. “Trooper, what is happening down there?”

The clone looked around, startled by something behind him. He got up and started shooting. “They’ll kill us all!” he called from offscreen.

 Screams and shots were all Rex had heard over the commlink before it cut off.

Adrenaline spiking, Rex shoved the commlink in his pocket and made a run for it, abandoning stealth. He had to get back to General Kenobi now. His brothers were dying! Reeds batted at his face as he whipped through the muddy paths, stumbling over his feet as he eventually made it back to the camp.

The camp was silent and empty when he returned. A foreboding omen. Perhaps they had already been sent to deal with the danger. Then a flicker of movement drew his eyes – General Kenobi was sitting and meditating before the ship. Rex breathed the smallest sigh of relief. He was still here. He’d know what to do.

“General Kenobi!” said Rex, running up to him, breath heaving in his chest. “Do you know what’s going on? I received a report of clones being killed en masse!”

Kenobi got to his feet, a strange look in his eyes. His eyes were red. He seemed…grieved somehow. 

“General?” he pushed. Seeing a Jedi in such a fit of emotion was enough to raise the hair on his arms. Then came a bleep - a new transmission on the commlink! Fearful of what he would hear he pressed the button to answer, not taking his eyes off Obi-Wan. There was a pit in his stomach. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

A hooded figure appeared in the commlink. “Execute Order 66.”

All at once Rex felt his mind relax, a haze descending, stifling panic. The knot in his stomach unclenched, the fear dissipated into nothing. There was nothing but the order. There was nothing but duty. He raised his weapon, pointing it at his enemy. Time to take the killing shot.  Time to obliterate the Jedi from the face of the galaxy. Time to take care of things once and for all...Unbidden, a memory flashed before his eyes. _“Take care of Obi-Wan for me. Between you and me, he’s always a little nervous when we split up.”_ No. What was he doing? This wasn’t right. It wasn’t. This man was his ally. This man was a friend. He started to lower his weapon…

A bolt of light slashed across his vision. He fell to the ground, numb all over. What was happening?

General Kenobi slid into view, his eyes blazing, the burning blue lightsaber casting a strange light upon his face. “You were our brothers. You fought by our side for years. We loved you!” 

“General?” he croaked, reaching out his hand.

“You were supposed to defend the Republic, not betray it for the Sith.”

“The Jedi killed my brothers,” said Rex and the realisation broke him.

"We did what we had to do." General Kenobi's voice was distant now. Sight faded, everything faded.

So, Slick had been right all along. He should have trusted his brother. They were the only ones who deserved his loyalty. He should never have given himself heart and soul to the Jedi. He should have...

Everything went black. The war was over. 

4.

It was tradition for clones to gather en masse every year on the anniversary of the end of the war. The forces that kept them apart were not strong enough to stop brothers from reuniting on this one night. The suspicion of the Republic's citizens (the citizens they had fought so hard to protect) was a poor defence against hundreds of thousands of clones crowding into bars, embracing like the brothers they were, and celebrating their moment of glory. For their sacrifice, they got this one night. Fives sat at the bar and soaked in whisky, memories killing any exuberance he might have felt. 

Victory had always been so unlikely. War had seemed so simple in their training simulators, just like a game, but all the while the deck had been rigged. That he had ever discovered otherwise was mere coincidence. A lucky draw. Fives fingered the scar on the side of his head.

“Please,” he had pleaded. “This is bigger than me or any of us. Please believe me.”

The Jedi had. Moves had been made to remove the chips immediately and the clones had been saved from the machinations of their own creators. Together, they defeated the Separatists and their true enemy: the Sith. Peace fell upon the Republic. He’d spoken out when it mattered and now there was nothing left to say. All was well in the galaxy.

So why did Fives still feel like they’d been played?

He downed his drink, barely noticing as it burned at his throat. Thousands of familiar faces here and not a single one he recognised. He missed Hevy and Droidbait and Cutup and Tup and every other trooper he had ever served with. They’d asserted their right to names and yet most of them lay still in unmarked graves with no-one to grieve them but their brothers. 

Most of all he missed Echo. To have gone through everything he had, only to fall apart when orders were removed…Their makers had never intended them to last this long and now the Republic was done with them. They'd been thrown a couple of credits and sent on their way. Of course, they weren’t programmed to survive on their own, without structure, without discipline, without their brothers by their sides… Echo, most loyal of them all, had been hit hardest. He'd just sit there, staring at the blank walls, waiting for orders that would never come. They’d shared an apartment for a time and Fives had given everything he had (not much, not much at all, but everything he had) to try to help him. 

Now Fives lived alone.

Fives moved through the crowd, skin brushing up against skin, wondering if this was the closest he would get to feeling right again. The room seemed to tilt, the alcohol hitting his system hard. Drinking had been strongly discouraged during the war but now there were far too many brothers with reddened cheeks and heavy guts, no longer models of discipline and order.

And he was one of them.

What else was there to fill the time when the days stretched on and on with no work and no purpose?

What else was there to block out the memories of his brothers dying and knowing that it could have been him (it should have been him)?

What else was there with which to toast their hollow victory?

What else was there?

5.

Slick watched in awe as every clone in their unit sat in unison. He surveyed them, hope swelling in his heart. Without their armour, they looked the least like droids they ever had. This was freedom, finally. This was the end of their deaths.

This was their rebellion.

He looked to the man standing by his side. Cut Lawquane. Tearing him from his found family had been an act of great evil but little had the Jedi known that it was the turning point that would shift the tide away from them. Slick had been ready to throw his hat in with the Separatists, just to get a taste of freedom, before Cut arrived. He’d already dipped his toes in that pond but his brother showed him a new way.

Cut had shown him it was possible to be a man, to be someone somebody could love. Meeting him had been like receiving a new pair of eyes.

Two Jedi stormed through the door, ranting and raving about their betrayal, about the Republic. Not a single clone spoke or acknowledged their presence. For what had the Republic ever done for them? They had bought them as property and sent them to die.

“We will not be the fuel of their war engine any longer. We will live as men,” said Cut, addressing the crowd. There were tears welling in his eyes. “To have had a wife, children, as I have had…to be at peace… You cannot imagine it, brothers. But you will not have to.”

The Jedi were softening their voices now, telling them that they understood, that they were sorry for the losses Cut had suffered. They told him to be reasonable, to reach a compromise. War was terrible but think of the Republic. Slick did - he thought about a Republic that had never given him anything but the death of his brothers - and held firm.

The Jedi's agitation increased with each word and Slick grasped his weapon tight in his hand. He’d given up the life of a warrior but he’d make an exception for the Jedi if they even thought about laying a hand on one his brothers. It was a mercy that they hadn’t turned on them already but Cut had told him that it was the only way if clones ever dreamed about getting their rights.

“We will not be slaves again,” said Cut. “Never again.”

The Jedi watched, powerless, as brother embraced brother, as they ignored orders, most of them for the first time ever.

They had been programmed to be obedient, it was written into their very genetic code. But DNA was not destiny. This was the start of a movement that would change the galaxy forever. 

It was odd, the Jedi almost looked envious. 

1.

Since the birth of the Empire, the galaxy felt like it was ageing at the rate of light-speed and the clones were ageing even faster than that. Accelerated growth, accelerated death. Since Order 66, everything had decayed.

When Commander Cody looked at his brothers he saw hair shot through with grey and faces lined by war. Cody never looked in a mirror if he could help it but they lived all around him, constant reminders of who and what he was. They had survived the Clone Wars but they were fading away. The Empire was pushing them out. Clones were too expensive, too _risky_. The Empire would take ordinary citizens, children, and train them from birth instead. 

There were no children to be had from the line of clones, the Kaminoans had seen to that. All they would leave behind was their legacy.

And what a legacy it was.

Cody didn’t like to think of the Jedi. He’d sealed those memories away in the far corner of his mind, repeating military conduct regulations in his head to drown out the sounds of their voices – their jokes, their laughter…their screams. Despite this, he’d been thinking about them rather a lot recently. The Kaminoans had given them only the knowledge they needed, tactics and strategy, but Obi-Wan had shown him something more: he’d shown Cody the Force.

In truth, Cody had only ever understood it as far as it helped them win battles against the Separatists but, in his old age, he found himself wondering about the afterlife. Obi-Wan had told him that all creatures returned to the Force when they died, that it was all one cycle of life, death and rebirth. He’d said it like clones were included. For all their programming, they were flesh and blood, were they not?

The Jedi were gone now and soon the entirety of the clone nation would meet that same fate.

Cody wondered whether he’d see them after he died. He wondered whether he’d see Obi-Wan. There was a part of him that hoped he wouldn’t. How could he face him after he’d ordered him shot him in the back?  Warring voices looped over and over in his mind: _Obi-Wan’s body was missing. He could still be alive. One day the Jedi might return and the Republic with it._ And: _they all deserved it. The Jedi were traitors to the Republic. You followed orders. Your choice was the right one._ And:  _there was no choice. It was stupid to ever think you could be anything more than a vessel for orders. The Jedi filled your heads with fantasies that could never be and their foolishness got them killed in the end. They thought you were people. They were wrong._ Then there as the most desperate part of Cody, the part that wished he could have died during the war. There he could have died with a purpose, false as it ultimately would have been. _There was never any chance of winning the Clone Wars, not for us._

Regardless, there was nothing to do now. The decisions had already been made. Cody waited out the days, watching as the suns set on the clones and all the other relics of a forgotten Republic.

**Author's Note:**

> I played around a bit with timelines (some characters aren't dead when they would have been in canon) because I picked the clones for each section based on which I thought would have the most resonant connection to the specific scenario. So for example, I picked Rex to die at the hands of a Jedi because, in canon, he's shown as being one of the most loyal clones and he manages to remove the chip so that he doesn't have to turn against them. Hopefully, that makes sense.
> 
> Anyways, I wrote this because I am forever salty about the treatment of the clones. I feel very much that they are the most tragic characters in the entire saga because they went so far to become individuals, despite all the barriers to doing so, but in the end, they didn't really have a chance because of the negligence of the Jedi. Also, like apparently, the Republic's anti-slavery laws don't count if you're a clone because everyone was just fine with the idea that the Republic paid the Kaminoans to create an army of people whose sole purpose is to fight and die for them. That's why to me, the only happy ending could come when if they decided to abandon the Jedi and give up their arms (though there is still the question of those pesky chips). I could honestly talk about this forever but I won't bore people anymore, haha.
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, please leave me a comment! I really appreciate everyone who takes the time let me know what you think! :)


End file.
